


wanna be felled by you

by nobirdstofly



Category: Band Sinister - K. J. Charles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Getting Together, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28258104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobirdstofly/pseuds/nobirdstofly
Summary: “My god you’d be pretty if you could loosen up. You need to stop pouting so much, even though your lips are made for it.”Anger races through Guy’s body, electrified by the annoyance he’s felt all night. “Are you seriously telling me I should smile more?”“I wouldn’t dare,” the man in the wolf mask says with a crooked smile.
Relationships: Guy Frisby/Philip Rookwood
Comments: 17
Kudos: 52
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	wanna be felled by you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisatsel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisatsel/gifts).



> for the prompt: _Modern AU where Guy, who has never come out to anyone, goes to uni and accidentally falls in with Philip, who is part of a secretive, exclusive drinking society which has a terrible reputation because of a vaguely alluded to freshers week incident from a couple of years back._
> 
> grace, you introduced me to so many wonderful things that helped me get through this year, please consider this a small token of my gratitude! title from hozier <3

“It’ll be forty for both of you.”

Guy’s not sure how he ended up here. Well, technically, he _knows_. Amanda dragged him in, both of them hidden behind cheap domino masks as she wastes the rest of their takeout money to pay the greeter at the door who’s wearing so little Guy feels even colder in sympathy.

There’s a fit looking man in a tiger mask just inside the door, and Amanda turns back to Guy with a sheepish smile. “Check my coat will you?” she pushes her worn peacoat at him without waiting for an answer. “This is David, by the way. Have fun!”

And then she’s twisting through the revelers, waving back at Guy with an ecstatic grin on her face. Guy has a feeling she arranged this rendezvous previously, and that he was only brought along so he wouldn’t “fret at home” all night.

Amanda’s words, of course. He doesn’t fret, he just doesn’t understand why he needs to be out drinking on the weekends while his homework piles up. Plus there’s a new documentary about a diver on Netflix that he was interested in and so what if that makes him “a nerd.” She used to love the Jacque Cousteau documentaries just as much as him when they were kids, when their mother was still with them.

Instead he’s stuck in this club, filled as it is with overstuffed leather armchairs and couches, and the low chatter of excited guests with an undercurrent of a low, heavy bass beat. Guy should leave, he would probably leave, but it’s much warmer here than it is in the drafty apartment he shares with his sister, even after he checks their coats. There are at least two fires burning, that he’s noticed, plus it’s an open bar.

He will leave, after he finishes this glass of champagne. He’s tragically underdressed, in his old suit that’s a little too big thanks to junior year stress that has him consuming more caffeine and less food, but at least his black mask makes him feel less exposed.

“My god you’d be pretty if you could loosen up.” The voice comes from beside him, and it takes Guy a long moment to realize it’s directed at him.

“What? Excuse me?”

“Pretty,” the masked man beside him says slowly, reaching out to push lightly at Guy’s shoulder before he chuffs Guy under the chin. “You just need to stop pouting so much, even though your lips are made for it.”

Anger races through Guy’s body, electrified by the annoyance he’s felt all night. “Are you seriously telling me I should smile more?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” the man says.

His smile is crooked under his silver wolf mask. It looks elegantly crafted, and the man’s suit fits him sinfully well. His fair hair is tied back in a small, low ponytail, though it looks like most of it has escaped. It’s like he’s some aristocrat from years past. He looks like he belongs here, like he’s everything Guy isn’t.

“Wait, I know you.” The dawning realization is like a bucket of cold water dumped on him despite the heat in the air. “You TA my class. Rookwood, right?”

Rockwood’s eyes narrow and he tilts his head, looking at Guy with interest. “You’re the little one that always sits in the front row.”

“Little?!”

Rockwood scoffs. “Settle down, I only meant you’re all… you know. You’re very compact, it’s cute. Your last name is something ridiculous isn’t it?”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Guy says defensively. “Just call me Guy, if you have to call me anything.”

“I will be calling you many things, Guy,” Rookwood says. “I’m Philip. Another drink?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine—”

But Philip is already leaning over the bar and grabbing a chilled bottle of champagne and another glass. Guy jumps when he pops the cork, and Philip laughs at his expense.

“Come on, drink up,” he says, topping off Guy’s flute. “It’s a party, after all.”

Guy tells himself he doesn’t leave for the sake of his grade, not because he’s often noticed Philip’s well-fitting trousers during lectures, and the insouciant smirk on his face when students ask stupid questions.

The other students, at least. Guy certainly never asks any questions that make Philip’s face twist. Not that he cares if he does. It’s not like he needs Philip’s approval.

The champagne is good, much better than anything he and Amanda could ever afford. It fizzes pleasantly on his tongue, and he can feel the warmth from the first glass and a half already burning in his cheeks.

“How are you enjoying my little shindig?” Philip asks. He holds the champagne flute in his long fingers like it’s made to rest there, a natural extension of his hand.

“Your shindig?” Guy has the horrible feeling this prick is probably the son of a baronet or something equally ridiculous.

Philip shoves his mask up and grins at Guy. His hair is sticking up where it’s held back by the mask, and Guy refuses to think it’s dashing.

“Well, it’s the _Murder’s_ , I suppose,” Philip says. “Do you know the Murder? We own this club.”

“You own a club,” Guy repeats. “Why am I not surprised?”

“It’s with a few friends, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Sure, sure. Everyone should scrape together a few friends and buy a bar. Why not!”

“You could be kinder. You seem to be enjoying this place well enough,” Philip says.

Guy pulls down his domino mask so it hangs around his neck. “I’m pretty confident you don’t need my kindness. You’ve got a whole club, after all.”

Philip laughs, like the sound is shocked out of him. “My, my, well you are a little spitfire, aren’t you? I had a feeling from class, and I love being right.”

“I’d bet you do.” Guy tips his glass at Philip.

“I’m often right,” Philip continues. “Do you want to know what my suspicion is?”

“Probably not.”

Philip laughs again, and Guy refuses to like the sound. “I have a suspicion you’ll let me kiss you before the night is out.”

Guy chokes on his champagne. “What?!”

“Do you really not find me attractive at all?”

“That’s beside the point,” Guy says.

Philip leans in closer, so close that the few inches he has on Guy are extremely apparent. “Hmm, is it? Do you not go for men, then?”

“Also not the point!”

Philip frowns. “It’s not _not_ the point.”

“What do you want?” Guy asks desperately. He’s pretty sure Philip wouldn’t stop him from leaving, he could make a run for it right now. Plus it’s doubtful he’d bring up trying to seduce an undergraduate in class. Guy should be in the clear if he goes now.

But something in him freezes, keeping him there, pinned under Philip’s knowing gaze.

“I want you,” Philip says simply, like it’s that easy. “I want to take you upstairs— there are rooms there, you know. Not necessarily for this sort of thing, we usually just use them to sleep off crazier nights, but a bed’s a bed, I say.”

Maybe it is this easy, for people like Philip. Maybe people like him cherry-pick what they want out of life and get to have it with no strings, no complications, no judgement. The rules don’t apply to people like him, not the way they do for Guy.

Tonight, Guy wants to know what that’s like.

“We can do as much or little as you’d like,” Philip says, “and I’m happy to bring along the champagne.”

“Alright,” Guy says softly. He’s pleased to see Philip’s eyes widen, as if, for all his bluster, he still wasn’t sure that Guy would acquiesce. “Alright, take me upstairs.”

Philip whoops, loud enough that a few others turn their way and let out their own sounds of excitement as if in agreement. He grabs Guy around the ears and kisses his forehead before pulling back, tangling their fingers together and grabbing the bottle with his free hand.

Guy composes a text to Amanda on the way, trying to memorize the maze of dimly lit corridors he’s being led through. When he’d envisioned having this conversation with his sister, he’d never imagined he’d do it over text. Especially not when on the way to an illicit hookup.

 _You dog!_ she sends back. _Is it weird to say I’m proud of you? Too bad, I’m proud of you! Be safe, and I can’t wait to hear everything (and I mean everything) tomorrow!!!_

He plans on telling his sister exactly nothing, and he hopes to hear the same in return.

The room Philip brings him to is beautiful. It’s all heavy, dark wood, velvet drapes against the windows, and another goddamn fire in the hearth. It’s old world and ridiculous, and Philip fits right in.

Guy hesitates on the threshold, and Philip leaves him there. He takes a swig straight from the champagne bottle and watches Guy, the fire throwing shadow and light over them both.

“You can go, if you want,” Philip offers. “I’ll try not to be too offended.”

“It’s not— I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Hooked up with a relative stranger in a private club?”

“Anything,” Guy says. “With anyone.”

“Oh. Oh fuck. Well.” Philip walks closer, until he’s in front of him. He tips Guy’s face up toward him, tilting his head this way and that. “Your eyes have green in them, did you know?”

Guy looks at him incredulously. “Did I know? Oh, how can I be sure, I’ve only had them for twenty years.”

Philip grins. “What I was trying to say is that they’re very pretty. Like you. I’d very much like to have them on me while I suck you off.”

“I thought you wanted to kiss me,” Guy says, trying not to tremble so much.

Philip is laughing when their lips meet. His mouth is hot on Guy’s, and it takes nothing for Guy to open his own and let him in. It’s so easy, giving himself over to Philip’s more than capable hands.

Philip pulls back, kissing his jaw, and then his neck. “Mr. Frisby,” he says next to Guy’s ear, making Guy shiver, “may I suck your cock?”

“Christ,” Guy says, his eyes clenched closed.

“That’s not an answer, you lovely thing. Let me make you feel good.”

“Yes, yes, alright? Please.”

Philip kisses his nose before he gracefully drops to his knees. He rubs his cheek against Guy’s hardening cock, looking up through his lashes. The sight of him on his knees is the single hottest thing Guy’s ever seen in his life.

“You should let me buy you a new suit, too. This fabric is so cheap,” Philip says.

Guy splutters. “You can’t do that, like you’re some sort of— you can’t!”

“Like I’m some sort of sugar daddy?” Philips asks, unbuckling Guy’s belt and letting it fall open. “I think you’ll find I can.” The button on Guy’s pants is next, followed swiftly by the zipper. “I do own a club, after all. As you astutely pointed out.”

“You’re the devil,” Guy gasps, the rest of his words caught up in a whine as Philip swallows down the length of his cock all at once. It continues to fill out in his mouth, something Philip doesn’t seem to mind if the way he moans is any indicator. “I’m not going to last,” Guy warns.

Philip pulls off, pumping Guy with his hand. “Oh, I know. Unsullied, untouched, et cetera.” He kisses the tip of Guy’s cock, holding his gaze carefully. “I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll never want anyone else.”

Guy can’t say for certain if Philip’s prophecy is right, but he thinks it’s probably not inaccurate given how his knees buckle when his release comes, Philip holding him up through it, swallowing again and again.

“Do you, what do you,” Guy pants out. He’s splayed across the bed, naked from the hips down. Philip must have dragged him over here. He eagerly accepts the champagne when Philip hands it over. “What can I do? For you, I mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Philip says.

“I’d like to,” Guy says, surprised to find it’s the truth.

“In that case.” Philip rolls toward him, propping himself up over Guy as he kisses him again. He tastes of expensive champagne, and warmth, and something that Guy thinks is probably his own spend.

Guy spreads his legs for him, his hands fighting with Philip’s to get his pants off as well. “Will you, uh. You can… on me?” Guy offers.

“God, you’re dangerous,” Philip says, and he’s kissing Guy again before Guy can ask what in the world that’s supposed to mean.

He ruts into the hollow of Guy’s hip, right next to his softening cock. He has his hend bent, watching, Guy assumes, and Guy kisses his cheek, his ear. His hair is darker than Guy thought, threaded through with brown among the blond.

Guy’s hands are still shaking, but he wraps them around Philip anyway, pulling him in tigther. Part of him wants to reach down and wrap a hand around Philip’s cock, to see how heavy it’d be in his hand, how hot. He’d probably just get in the way, though.

Philip comes much faster than Guy expected, catching Guy’s lips in another kiss as he moans in pleasure. The spill of his come is warm and strange on Guy’s belly. Guy reaches down before he can think about it, running his fingers through it. He’s only ever seen his own in real life, and he wonders if Philip’s tastes different.

Before he can act on that, Philip captures his fingertips in his own mouth. He hums in the back of his throat as he cleans off Guy’s hand, and then shuffles down to lick his belly clean, too. Guy’s cock twitches, and he has a feeling he’s going to get hard again with very little effort.

“You should let me fuck you,” Philip says. “Next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yes, or you can fuck me. I like it either way.”

Guy rubs at his face with both hands, heedless of Philip’s spit drying on his skin. “You’re too much,” he says, voice muffled by his palms.

Philip laughs, yanking Guy into a loose embrace. “I’m exactly the perfect amount.”

“Sure,” Guy says faintly.

“So what do you say? Another round now, or do you want to go out and enjoy this get together more? It’s barely started, and I’d like you to meet some of my friends.”

“I think one of them already absconded with my sister. David, if I recall?”

Philip sits up, all but throwing Guy off his chest. “Your sister is David’s Amanda? That’s _marvelous_.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, and, if you’ll remember, I’m usually right. What do you say, want to meet the rest of the Murder?”

“What _is_ the Murder?” Guy asks. Against all his judgement, he goes along when Philip tugs him up from the bed.

“A wondrous society of likeminded individuals,” Philip says, helping him back into his clothes.

“Oh god, is it a cult?”

“It’s not a cult, you rube.” Philip straightens Guy’s tie as if it’s done something to personally offend him. “It’s a _society_. Like a club.”

Philip waves his hand around vaguely while he finishes the champagne bottle. Guy watches the line of his throat as he swallows. The throat that so recently swallowed his come, he can’t help but remember.

“What do you do exactly?” Guy asks, willing his cock to behave.

“This, mostly. Drinking, fun, bacchanalia and the sort. I think you’d like it, if you gave it a try.” Philip smiles, leaning in for another kiss before he opens the door. “Come get another drink and meet my friends. If there are no empty seats, you can sit on my lap.”

“You’re so generous,” Guy says dryly.

“Mhmm, you’ve seen how generous I can be,” Philip points out. “And you’ll keep seeing it when you let me invest in that new suit.”

Guy sighs, but he grabs Philip’s offered hand regardless. “Lead on,” he says. “I’m already making bad choices tonight anyway.”

Philip stops walking to kiss him again. The hall is dark, laughter and music filtering in from downstairs. He carefully pulls Guy's mask back up his face. “Let me show you I’m not a bad choice. Let me try at least?”

“Yeah, alright,” Guy says, tilting his face up for another kiss. “Do your worst.”

Philip’s answering smile manages to be sweet and filthy at once. “I intend to.”


End file.
